


Let's Talk

by KatieComma



Series: Looking For The One [4]
Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Falling In Love, First Kiss, Idiots in Love, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-21
Updated: 2018-07-21
Packaged: 2019-06-13 20:56:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15373155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KatieComma/pseuds/KatieComma
Summary: Once Riley leaves, Jack and Mac take her advice and start to talk out their relationship.





	Let's Talk

**Author's Note:**

> Ok. Ok. Ok. Here!!!! ;)
> 
> This one actually came pretty naturally... but I love writing in Jack's POV... so that probably helped.
> 
> I hope this satisfies after the tease of an ending of Part 3.

The door closed, and Riley was gone. Silence filled the room, except for the TV on low, buzzing commercials into the air. Some guy named Ed was clearing out furniture at record breaking prices.

Mac looked down at his hands, he was afraid to look anywhere else, and damned if he didn’t wish he had a paperclip to twist and turn and snap in two to relieve the tension in his body.

“Well, we better start talkin’,” Jack said from halfway across the room. “Cause Riley’s still waitin’ at the door and probably ain’t gonna leave until we get started.”

Mac glanced back at the door and then over to Jack. “How do you know that she’s still there?” He asked, surprised.

“Cause I know Riley,” Jack said, “and once she sets somethin’ in motion she’s gonna make sure it gets done.”

“Good follow through,” Mac said. “Must have learned that from you.” Mac smiled, and Jack smiled back, and then something roiled in Mac’s gut and he looked back at his hands again.

Ed was still slinging coffee tables at half price.

“Come on Mac,” Jack said, and Mac heard his boots squeak on the floor when he stood up. “If we can’t talk anymore…” He trailed off and Mac knew what he was thinking: how could they be partners if they were keeping secrets from each other?

Jack’s feet came into view, but Mac didn’t look up. Jack sat on the coffee table in front of him. Mac still didn’t look up.

 

 

Jack watched Mac fiddle with his hands. That’s when he knew for sure. If this was all just Jack, if Mac wasn’t feeling something too, then they’d be able to look at each other. It paid to know someone well sometimes. But then again maybe not, since they’d both been fumbling around each other blind for lord knows how long. Jack couldn’t have even picked a time when he wasn’t feeling all that he was feeling for Mac.

“You started filling out that stupid profile,” Mac started suddenly, “and I just kept thinking you wanted to get out of the life. Get away from me.”

Jack hadn’t expected that, and his shock silenced him.

“You’ve been putting yourself in harms way your whole life Jack,” when he said Jack’s name, Mac finally looked up. There was fear in his eyes. He was still afraid he was going to be rejected. “If you want to settle down and relax, live a comfortable life, I could never ask you to stay. That’s not fair. It’s not right.”

Jack was at a loss for words. He frowned, and immediately regretted it when Mac’s eyes widened a little in shock, misreading Jack.

“You gotta be kiddin’ me,” Jack said, shaking his head. “Wookie life debt,” he reminded Mac, trying to lighten the mood. “That ain’t somethin’ you can walk away from and kick back on a ranch until the end of your days.”

A smile curled across Mac’s face, and Jack was grateful he could be responsible for that, even in a heavy situation like this one.

“You know I’d never rest easy anywhere, knowin’ you were out runnin’ around and gettin’ yourself shot at,” Jack said earnestly. “You’re gonna get blown up, I’ll be right there beside you.” 

The tension between them felt physical and real, like a door. But that door wasn’t locked, it just needed to be opened, the knob just needed to be turned.

Jack decided to open that door and reached out for Mac’s hands.

 

 

Mac’s fingers were intertwined together so tightly they were beginning to go white. If only he had a paperclip to turn and mold, then he’d be alright.

Jack reached toward him, and even as he started the gesture, Mac loosened his fingers, wanting them to be held in Jack’s big rough hands. Wanted it like nothing he’d ever wanted before, like something that he knew would complete part of him; Another piece in the puzzle of his life falling into place perfectly. Jack was the puzzle piece that didn’t look like it would ever fit anywhere, never click into place, with odd twists and corners, and yet when you just gave it a try and turned it this way or that it fit just right.

That’s how it felt when Jack took his hands and their fingers slipped between each other. They fit just right. 

They sat like that, quietly, feeling each other’s hands. It wasn’t that they’d never touched before, but the intention had always been different. This was intimate, though it was almost innocent and naive at the same time. Holding hands the way a couple of kids would, treasuring the grip of palm against palm, thumbs massaging wrists.

Mac wasn’t sure what was supposed to happen next. They should be talking. That’s what they were supposed to be doing. But they were close, Jack leaned forward on his knees so he could grip Mac’s hands, and that closeness was intoxicating. 

He could feel the callous on Jack’s gun hand, rough and solid, and the ropey scar between the knuckles of his left; Jack had never told him where he’d gotten that one, though he bragged about the rest of his scars on a regular basis.

Mac realized he’d been staring at their hands, and was afraid to look up into Jack’s eyes. If he listened to his stomach he was on a ship at sea during a bad storm, waves tossing the boat and his stomach around. Finally he found the nerve, him a secret agent and spy, found the nerve to bring his eyes up.

Jack smiled at him, but his eyes were misty.

“Jack, what’s wrong?” His concern for the man overwhelmed his nervousness and the words burst out of him before they could even pass through his brain.

Jack’s smile widened, crinkling up the corners of his eyes and he hung his head. “Nothin’. Ain’t nothin’ wrong,” Jack said, pulling their combined fists up to rest against his bowed forehead. “Though I’m startin’ to suspect Pop was right when he said I wear my heart on my sleeve more often than’s good for me.”

 

 

Jack felt so vulnerable, to the point of feeling silly. It wasn’t that he hated emotion, but sometimes it welled up in him so big he thought he’d drown in it, like ocean waves towing him down and down. His voice was hoarse with it, and he knew that if Mac let go of his hands, they would tremble.

And then Mac did just that, let Jack’s hands go, and he almost cried out for the loss of warmth against his palms. But then Mac’s long delicate fingers were on his face, cradling his rough stubbled cheeks in his soft hands.

“I don’t really know what comes next,” Mac admitted aloud for both of them. He sounded afraid. “I don’t know what to say.”

Jack couldn’t speak. His emotions were still caught up in his throat, and Mac’s hands on his skin didn’t help. They were on the edge of a cliff, and they both wanted to jump, but they were still afraid because it was the edge of a goddamn cliff. It was going to change them forever. Maybe they'd break, maybe they'd fly; They wouldn't know until they jumped.

“Seriously Jack, are you ok?” Mac asked, putting pressure under Jack’s jaw to force him to look up.

Jack cleared his throat, and let Mac tilt his face up. “I’m fine, I’m just a big ole idiot that’s all,” Jack said.

“Idiots are the best company,” Mac replied, returning his hands to Jack’s and gripping them more loosely this time. “By far the most fun. Let’s see, they sing bad karaoke and they’re awful at charades. But they drink cheap beer at least, so that’s a plus. And sometimes they let you win an argument even though they know they’re right…” Mac kept on talking, describing the things about Jack that made him laugh or even just made him happy.

Jack’s eyes were drawn to the birthmark just below Mac’s jaw on the right side. It shivered this way and that while Mac talked, the muscles in his throat shifting with chuckles and when he smiled wide. Without thinking about what he was doing, Jack lifted a hand and gently set his fingers to it. There'd always been a craving in him to see what that skin felt like; Would he be able to tell the difference from the skin around it with just his touch? So close to Mac’s pulse point he could feel the flutter of movement there under the skin. He watched Mac’s bright eyes close halfway at the touch and heard his voice slow, but not stop. When he pressed his fingers harder against the skin of Mac’s throat, he could feel the thrum of his voice vibrating up to his jaw.

 

 

The touch of Jack’s fingers was heat and strength and tenderness all at once. Mac’s breath caught in his throat for an instant before he continued talking with little thought for what he was going on about; Describing the things about Jack that he loved, all in the guise of calling him an idiot.

“…And they sing Salt and Pepper during interrogation. Sometimes they trigger bombs and need to be saved. Let’s not forget how well they wear leather jackets, which helps them look really great in their cool classic cars…” He was running out of things to say. Not that there weren’t a million great things about Jack, but the blood in his brain was pooling elsewhere in his body and he was finding it increasingly distracting.

“It’s Salt-N-Pepa,” Jack joked, razzing Mac for his pronunciation of the band name.

Fuck it. Mac leaned forward and kissed Jack. 

The sensation was familiar at first and then strange. Lips met lips and that was nothing new, though it was a certain special set of lips; But as their mouths opened and the kiss became frantic Mac’s skin brushed stubble and that was a new experience for him. The scraping of scruff against him sent a thrill down his spine that sparked goose bumps across his whole body. Once that spark was lit, his fingers tightened on Jack’s hand, pulling him forward, closer.

 

 

Jack needed to breathe. Even before Mac had kissed him it seemed like there’d been no air in his body.

And then Mac jumped off the cliff, and pulled Jack right along with him. Jack’s stomach flipped, the same way it did whenever he did jumped out of a plane. And he was falling and falling, one hand in Mac’s hair, the other holding tightly to Mac’s hands, gripping like he wouldn’t ever let go. And he didn’t plan to.

But then he needed to breathe and tried to pull back. Mac followed, chasing his mouth. Jack grabbed a fistful of blonde hair and forced them apart.

“Woah. Woah. Steady. Trigger,” Jack said between deep breaths. He put his hands to either side of Mac’s face and pulled him close again, laying his forehead against Mac’s.

Mac rested his hands on Jack’s knees, where their legs knocked together between them. The press of his nimble fingers there, gripping tightly with the need to be close, felt so good it was almost painful.

“This,” Jack breathed out.

“What?” Mac asked.

“You asked what comes next,” Jack replied. “This is what comes next.”.

He didn't even notice when the familiar sound of his Shelby's engine growled to life outside and ripped away down the street.

Fresh air in his lungs, Jack kissed Mac again, and decided he never wanted to stop.


End file.
